How, o sharded face, do you,
in all your stillness,
in all your beauty,
radiate such calm?
With hands unknown,
beyond your speckled surface--
sought to draw one's eyes
into the mysterious.
Though...function fades
when purpose prods the
pristine portrait for
"perceived" purity.
Behind your pigments,
between the rebar;
who are you?
My own eyes are kept,
veiled to who you really
are...beneath the stains.
Blinded to the window
of your very essence.
Though unseen, though loved
for your disguise;
I knew you. I get you.
I see you as you.
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